The Way Through Dodge
by Shellecah
Summary: Matt's efforts to help alcoholic Odin Vaughan endanger Odin's life. (Kitty plays a crucial role in Chapter 3, and has a Kitty-centered scene near story's end.)
1. Chapter 1

A cold wet spell enshrouded southwest Kansas that spring, the storm clouds fading at times to bare an ashen sky. Awake before dawn, the marshal rose from his bed as he heard Ma Smalley's steps, the light thump of the hot water jug outside his room door and Ma's discreet knock.

Clad in his union suit, Matt had shaved and was washing up when another knock sounded, loud and urgent. "Who is it?" he called.

" _Marshal, it's Violet."_

"Give me a minute," said Matt. He quickly dressed, ran his fingers through his hair and opened the door.

Barefoot, she wore a blue silk dressing gown, her long, thick gold hair still in its night braid down her back. "Oh Marshal," said Violet. "Odin didn't come home last night. He said he was going for a walk after supper and maybe pay some visits and not to wait up for him, but he was still gone when I woke this morning; his side of the bed hasn't been slept in and I'm worried something happened to him."

"He might've spent the night at a friend's place, Violet," said the marshal. "It rained hard last night. He'll likely be back soon."

"Oh, I hope so," said Violet. "The melancholy's stricken him again somethin' fierce, and I don't know what to _do_. He was so happy when we married." She touched her palm to her chest.

Matt had noticed the changes in Odin, from deep gloom to a bemused serenity when Violet went sweet on him, then sinking into forlorn languor. Matt on occasion ate breakfast or supper in Ma Smalley's dining room, where Odin sat silently next to his wife, his gray eyes staring vacantly at his plate and his elfin features droopy, not touching his food until Violet prodded him to take some bites.

"Has Odin been drinking again?" said Matt.

"Not a drop since he proposed to me at that fish fry Kitty invited me to down to the jail. Odin told me he can't taste it without getting drunk. I'd a known if he had," said Violet.

"Then he's gotta be craving it, since he had a relapse of the melancholy," said Matt. "He been to the opium dens?"

Violet shook her head. "He'd be giddy addled if he was smokin' that stuff. It hangs onto a body. If Odin was tetched from a pipe, I'd see it when I come from my sewing job at Mrs. Brown's shop. Marshal, _please_ look for him. I'm scared he's laying senseless with whiskey, dying in the mud from the pneumonia." Her dark-blue eyes filled.

"I'll have Chester help me look. We'll find him, Violet."

The storage shed in the clearing behind the depot was dark, dank and piled with scrap metal, firewood and planks, coal, and old chairs and tables.

"Odin?" Matt said, stepping inside.

He gingerly navigated the meager floor space, and was turning to leave when he stumbled over Odin's small form. He lay motionless on his stomach, an empty whiskey bottle and an empty laudanum bottle close to his right hand.

Matt bent down, turned Odin on his back, touched two fingers to his throat and found a thready pulse. His hat and coat were missing, and his hair, clothes and boots were wet and muddy. Matt picked him up and carried him to Doc's, feeling Odin's light bones like sticks through his clothes.

"He drank a whiskey bottle and one of laudanum," said the marshal, laying Odin on Doc's table.

"No surprise," said Doc, prying open Odin's eyelids. "Suicide attempt. Third time he's tried it."

"I hoped marrying Violet would cure him," said Matt.

"Well, Matt, I told you folks Odin couldn't handle marriage when Vi was sparkin' him," said Doc, reaching for his stethoscope. "It just isn't that easy with an alcoholic. Not that Vi's done him harm; she's a good woman. His chances are better on account of her care, for all he's too skinny from the melancholy."

"He's been skinny long as I've known him," said Matt.

"He's bony, now," said Doc.

"Will he live, Doc?"

"Don't know yet," said Doc. "I'll give him injections with healing salts solution, rub his limbs and knead the muscles vigorous to get his blood flowing and clean out the poison, warm him up. The rest is up to nature . . . and good care."

As Doc slept on his lounge that night, with Odin comatose and wrapped in blankets on the table and Violet sleeping in the bedroom, the marshal's voice, charged with urgency, invaded Doc's strange dream of arithmetic calculations and passages of text on neurology.

"A man's life depends on me discovering this solution, Matt," Doc snapped at Matt's disembodied dream voice. Hot irritation twisted like corkscrews through Doc's temples. "Hold a needle over the stove and dig out your own splinter. Just pour cold water over the needle so you don't burn yourself," Doc instructed.

"It's too deep for that," Matt's voice said in Doc's ear. "Besides, this isn't about me. She provides for him; he's not doing a thing. A man needs to _work_ , Doc." A faint ghostly moaning drifted through Doc's rooms as Matt spoke.

Doc slapped at his ear. "Gol _durn_ it, Matt," Doc swore. "How can I calculate these figures in this confounded din. Tell Kitty to take a double dose of laudanum so she can quit that moaning."

"Kitty's fine, Doc. You know she doesn't get women's complaint." The marshal's voice had returned to its steady, reasonable tone.

The moaning intensified, high and desperate. "Wake yourself, Doctor Adams," a white-coated man scolded. "You have a patient, _by_ thunder."

And Doc woke up.

Keening, his eyes closed, Odin flailed in his cocoon of blankets. Wearing only her nightdress, Violet ran from the bedroom toward her husband, and Doc held up a staying hand before she reached the table.

Doc touched Odin's shoulder, patted his face and called his name. Odin's eyes blinked open, gray as the dawn sky yet clear as diamonds. He stopped thrashing and lay still, looking at Doc.

"Odin," said Doc.

"I'm not dead," Odin said in a low monotone.

"You wouldn't be looking at me if you were," said Doc. "Vi's here."

"Violet?"

Vi leaned over the table, smiled and stroked Odin's hair, gray as his eyes though he was thirty-four years old. "Sprite," she said softly, and kissed his forehead.

Five days later, Doc said Odin was sufficiently recovered to have a talk with Matt and Violet about work Odin liked, and what job the marshal could find. "I want Kitty at this meeting, Doc," said Violet. "A body needs a woman's company for such talk." Violet had worked at the Long Branch before marrying Odin and taking a job as seamstress at Mrs. Brown's dress shop.

Odin refused to meet without Chester. "Chester's my friend," Odin woefully said.

"What's the harm in having Chester in on our talk, Doc?" said Violet. "If it makes Sprite happy?"

"I'm never happy," said Odin.

"I don't think Chester would make a valuable contribution," said Doc.

"Come on, Doc," said Matt.

"Oh . . . alright," said Doc. "Just don't blame me if our meeting goes awry on account of Chester's ramblings."

"I like his ramblings," Odin said.

Kitty was excited about the meeting, to be held at lunchtime in Doc's office. "We'll have beef sandwiches with butter on rye, pickles and eggs hardboiled, and chicken soup, since it's bound to be another cold day. And apple pie," she said.

"You doing the cookin'?" said Matt.

"You know I'm not," said Kitty. "I'm ordering everything from Delmonico's."

Doc stoked the stove fire so his rooms were comfortably warm. Violet toasted a slice of rye over the stove, spread a thin layer of butter, served it to Odin with soup, and sweetened his coffee with brown sugar, mixing in cream. He nibbled at the toast and a spoon of chicken, relishing only the coffee.

"You figure on any work you'd like to do, Odin?" said Matt.

"Jailkeeper," said Odin, his voice soft and humble.

As Odin sipped his coffee, Matt met the mild eyes gazing at him over the cup brim. Odin's eyes abruptly widened and he set down his cup, his face flushing. "I beg your pardon, Chester," he said. "I don't mean I want your job."

Chester looked surprised at the apology. "Well forevermore, I know that, Odin," he said.

Violet put her arm around her husband as they sat on Doc's lounge. "Jailkeepin's kinda dangerous, Sprite," she said.

"It's what I want, my love."

"Oh, no harm would come to him, Mrs. Vaughan," said Chester. "Not with me an' Mr. Dillon lookin' out for him."

"You sure that's what you want, Odin?" said Matt. "Not meaning you don't know your own mind, but you and Chester bein' friends, maybe that's where you got the idea."

"I'm very flawed, Marshal," Odin said calmly, with no self-pity. "I understand flawed men."

"Odin, there's a big difference between a man with weaknesses and a malefactor," said Doc. "You go soft tending to the bad ones, you lose your watchful eye and bring out the venom in them. They'll figure you're easy prey."

"You see, honey?" Violet said to Odin. "You're not cut out for that sort of job.

"He feels too much for folks' hurting to see to jailed men," said Violet.

'I'd be careful, Marshal," said Odin. "Like you and Chester. I'm handy choring, and I can cook."

"Odin, you stopped wearing a gun after you married Vi," said Kitty.

"I only ever wore a gun to have it at hand if I decided to shoot myself, Miss Kitty. Chester doesn't wear a gun and he does a good job," said Odin.

"Waal . . . ah don't do all that much," said Chester. "I ain't softhearted on 'em, though. I'll shoot ma target clean through the heart when the need arises."

"Odin doesn't even hunt," said Violet. "He can't stand shooting a rabbit, a man let alone. Odin would let a man shoot him dead on account of he couldn't pull the trigger."

"He fishes," said Chester, crunching a pickle.

Matt and Doc, Kitty and Odin and Violet all looked at Chester. "I warned you folks about Chester and this meeting," said Doc.

"Huh?" said Chester.

"If I hire you, Odin, gunfighting won't be part of your job anyway," said Matt. "You won't wear a badge. You'll be an assistant, like Chester."

"You're gonna _hire_ him, Matt?" said Kitty.

"I'd try my utmost to be a help, Miss Kitty," said Odin. "I can help the men in jail bear their imprisonment and keep my guard up around them, too. I know how it is to hurt so inside, you want to die to ease the pain. I understand."

"Chester and I can use your help," said Matt. "You want to work for me, Odin, you have to eat. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Whole meals, not just a bite or two."

Odin's mouth curved up a little, the sorrow which never quite left his eyes disappearing a moment in as much of a smile as any in the room, his wife included, ever saw on his sharp-featured face. He rose from his chair and squared his shoulders as he moved to stand before the marshal.

Although Matt was tempted to stay seated, which would bring his eye level closer to that of Odin, who was no taller than Kitty and shorter than Violet, the marshal figured that keeping his seat would disrespect Odin. When you made an agreement with a man, you shook his hand on your feet.

Matt stood, towering over Odin, and Chester moved to stand beside Matt. A familiar uneasiness settled on the marshal as he engulfed Odin's small hand in his, and he wondered at how his desire to take care of folks at times overruled his sound judgment. Smiling, Chester shook Odin's hand.

"Oh," said Violet. "Oh, Sprite. _Kitty_ . . . ." She went to Kitty and reached for her hand.

"Don't worry, Vi," said Kitty. "Matt and Chester will look out for him."

"I'll make it my business to keep a watchful eye on Odin, Mrs. Vaughan," Chester reassured. "Part of ma job, like keepin' the coffee brewin'. Ain't that so, Mr. Dillon."

"Sure," said Matt.

"What're you shakin' yer head at, Doc," said Chester.

"Hmm? Oh, nothin'. Got a little itch in my ear, here," said Doc.

"You come to the marshal's office early tomorrow morning, Odin,' said Matt. "We'll breakfast at Delmonico's, and Chester will show you the ropes."

"We won't have ya doin' too much ta once, Odin," said Chester. "Let you git some meat on your bones first. I'll do the bigger heap of chorin' and sech, seein' as ah'm the strong assistant."

"I'd like to . . . kind of keep the prisoners company," said Odin. "The ones that aren't a danger, I mean. Chat with them, ask them if they need anything; maybe when it's safe, play checkers or backgammon with them in the cell. That is, when you don't need me for anything else, Marshal."

"You have to stay watchful, all the time," said Matt. "And before you chat with a prisoner or set with 'em in the cell, ask me."

"Yes, sir."

Odin wanted only a soft-boiled egg, one buttered biscuit, and coffee the next morning at Delmonico's. "Odin, you'll never gain weight eating that way," said Matt. "You'll keep losin', and you're already too skinny. I told you yesterday, you wanna work for me, you have to eat. You'll be too weak for the job otherwise."

Odin sighed. "You order the food for me, Marshal. I'll try to eat it. I've always eaten light."

"A body kin make hisself sick, eatin' more'n he can hold, Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"I'm not telling Odin to stuff himself, Chester. Just a normal breakfast for a man."

"Fer a man Odin's size, half that, maybe," Chester argued. "He's 'bout half my size, and if you calculate two halves and chop it ta four pieces, I make three of them pieces, and you make four, Mr. Dillon. Only I eat more'n you, you bein' bigger than me, irregardless. So Odin oughter eat half what you eat, not me."

"Chester," said Matt. "Never mind. We'll have the waiter bring Odin a half order."

Odin looked scared when his breakfast arrived, though the waiter gave him half the amount of food served to Matt and Chester, who both ordered eggs, flapjacks and sausage.

"It'll get cold if you set and stare at it, Odin," said Matt. "Eat." Odin shook his head.

"He cain't, Mr. Dillon." Chester filled his fork with flapjack slices dripping syrup, and put them in his mouth. "He's overcome," Chester explained around the mouthful. "It's all too much."

"Well . . . ." said Matt. "Just eat what you can, Odin."

"I can't eat any of it," said Odin.

"Alright," the marshal said patiently. "I guess I'm starting you off with too much food. I should've asked Doc about this."

"No need askin' Doc, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I jest tole you 'twas way too much."

"Chester," said Matt. "Can you eat what you wanted to order, Odin? Soft-boiled egg and biscuit. We'll go slower. A little more at a time."

"Yes, sir," said Odin.

Except for not eating enough, Odin meticulously obeyed Matt's orders without delay or complaint. Odin regarded Chester as second-in-command, only Chester never ordered him. Chester knew Odin preferred tending to the prisoners over chores and errands, and when Matt told him to go to the post or wash the windows, Chester said, "Oh, I'll see to it, Mr. Dillon."

The marshal couldn't figure it through, as Chester though trustworthy and tidy was not industrious. He disliked cleaning up, particularly window washing.

"Let Odin go today, Chester," said Matt, when Chester said, "I best go fer the mail."

The marshal waited until Odin closed the door and they heard his light boot steps moving down the walk. "Chester, I hired Odin to do more than see to the prisoners' needs," said Matt. "A marshal's assistant does more. I shouldn't have to tell you that."

Chester hated being scolded, and he gave Matt a reproachful look. "I thought you hired Odin to cure him of the melancholy, Mr. Dillon. He perks up when he tends to the men. I said nothin' when you told 'im ta clean the stove, and he drug hisself to it like a li'l shadow 'bout to fade away. He kin sweep up in any back street roomin' house. Odin'd do better with no job at all, jest havin' Mrs. Vaughan take on the care of 'im, like she was afore, ruther than drudgin' roun' here makin' hisself worse. He asked to work fer you so's he kin help the men in jail and lift the cloud offen his head, an' he says he'll do chores and sech jest to git the job," Chester finished, breathless.

Realizing he'd known all that without thinking on it since hiring Odin, Matt gazed thoughtfully at Chester. "The jail cells are empty, now, Chester," said Matt. "They're empty a lot of the time."

"Yessir. Odin needs restin' spells. His head makes it hard for 'im if he don't have 'em, and he has trouble eatin', 'sides. He can sleep when there ain't no men in the jail to see to, or read or pass the time with me, play checkers and sech. He likes ma penny books," said Chester. "So's he won't be in their room at Ma Smalley's 'lone to hisself with Mrs. Vaughan at the shop."

His blue eyes probing and quizzical, Matt kept looking at his friend. Chester's face turned red. "I knowed you hired Odin for yer assistant, Mr. Dillon, but some parts of the job jest ain't good for 'im."

"Alright, Chester," said Matt. "You know quite a bit about Odin's affliction. Doc teach you?"

"Cain't rightly recollect what Doc larned me," said Chester. "I ask somewhat, but Doc's answers makes me muddledy betimes."

"Well, you might be right about Odin," said Matt. "We'll do how you said with him." The marshal grinned. "You have some wise ideas, Chester. That's a big help to Odin."

"Oh, it ain't nothin' much, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "Odin and me's grew ta friends. That's how maybe I knowed."

When Odin returned from the post with a stack of _Wanted_ circulars, Matt leafed through them, stopping at a tintype of a man named Norse Brand with the telltale blank face and empty eyes of a gun for hire. There was a twenty-five thousand dollar reward on Brand's head, dead or alive. Matt had seen him at the Long Branch.

As Brand was known for his fast reflexes, Matt sneaked up on the gunman as he leaned on the Long Branch bar drinking whiskey, and snaked his gun from the holster. Brand froze rigid, his eyes distended, then squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing.

"He won't shoot you," Sam told the gunman, seeing the color drain from Brand's face. "He's a lawman."

Brand's eyes opened as he stood unmoving. "I been shot by lawmen before," he said.

"I won't shoot ya," Matt said to the back of Brand's head, sticking his gun in the marshal's belt. "You're going to jail."

Brand straightened up and turned, and his eyes widened again as he lifted his head to meet Matt's eyes. "There ain't no use fightin' _you,_ " said Brand.

"Nope," said the marshal. "Let's go, Brand."

"I'll hang," said Brand, as he moved toward the batwings ahead of Matt.

"The judge will decide that," said the marshal.

Chester and Odin were playing checkers at the table when Matt walked in with the gunman. Matt had told them about the _Wanted_ poster, and that he was arresting Brand.

Chester rose from his chair, took the jail key from its peg, unlocked the near cell and swung open the door. Brand sneered at Chester, then the gunman's expressionless eyes sized up Odin, like a wolf eyeing a rabbit. Odin returned Brand's gaze with the curiosity aroused in the law-abiding by the soulless.


	2. Chapter 2

Brand stepped inside the cell and Chester turned the key in the lock, his face sober and his brown eyes inscrutable as he looked at the gunman. Brand's sneer disappeared. He averted his eyes and sat on the bed.

Matt closed the door to the cells. "Don't talk to Brand, Odin," the marshal ordered. "If he tries to get your attention, don't acknowledge him. Chester and I'll see to his needs. And don't go near his jail cell."

"Yes, sir," said Odin.

Men who were locked up seven days or longer were taken once per week to Dodge City's cheapest bath house, which was little more than a roomy shed with a water pump, a tub, a stove and large pots for heating water, a bench with towels and space for a change of clothes, and a keeper paid by the town. Matt entrusted the job of walking prisoners to the bath to Chester, who was a watchful guard and handy with a shotgun, using it with no qualms when he had to.

A week passed as Brand awaited his court date in jail, and on the day Chester was to take him to the bath house, Matt was summoned to the tailor's shop, which a thief had broken into in the dead of night, and finding only an empty cash drawer, stole an expensive new suit with mother-of-pearl buttons on the silk vest, intended for a town councilman.

Matt had no hope of retrieving the suit, as he calculated the thief was a drifter who'd left town. While Matt met with the tailor and councilman on what he considered a placating call, Chester took a shotgun from the wall at the marshal's office. "Ah'm takin' Brand fer 'is bath," Chester said to Odin.

"Alright," said Odin. He sat at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him, absorbed in one of Chester's books entitled _Range War_ , with a picture of a gunfight on the cover showing impossibly large black billows of smoke from gun barrels and the bodies of men and cattle strewn on the ground.

The marshal had instructed Chester to go through the side door and walk the prisoners down the alley a short piece to the bath house. His eyes fixed on the gunman as he unlocked the cell door, Chester leveled the shotgun at Brand. "You're goin' for a bath," said Chester.

"What about clean clothes," said Brand from his seat on the bunk.

"I took 'em to the house earlier," said Chester. As though setting his mind to something, Brand regarded Chester. The gunman's eyes usually reflected no feeling that Chester could see, but now he thought the eyes looked cunning. Chester tightened his hold on the shotgun, raising the weapon slightly, and his heart rat-a-tatted before settling back to its normal beat.

"Dillon here?" said Brand.

"He's down the street a short spell. Come on; move," said Chester, gesturing with the shotgun.

Brand rose from the bunk and walked ahead of Chester through the doorway from the jail to the office. "That way," said Chester. "We're goin' through the side door."

Sitting at the table with his back to the other two men, Odin didn't look up from the book. Brand turned toward the side door, pivoted and rushed Odin, wrapping one arm round his neck and clamping his chest with the other, pinioning Odin's arms.

" _Brand Let 'im go."_ Chester clicked the shotgun hammer.

Holding Odin in front of him, Brand faced Chester. Odin's chair fell over and the book dropped from his hand. His throat compressed by the gunman's arm, Odin started choking.

"You pull that trigger; the bullet hits him," said Brand, backing to the front door. Odin's eyes dimmed, the lids drooping.

The door opened, and before Brand could whirl around, Matt drew his gun and rammed the barrel against the back of Brand's head. "If I put a bullet through your head," said Matt, "it'll miss Odin with room to spare." Brand let go of Odin and raised his arms, and Odin crumpled unconscious to the floor.

Chester put down the shotgun and bent over Odin. "He's breathin', Mr. Dillon, but his face is blue. Brand choked 'im most to death."

"Put him on the bed, Chester, and go for Doc," said Matt.

"I take it I don't get no bath today," said Brand, as Chester lifted Odin and carried him to the bed.

"That's right," said Matt. He'd take Brand to the bath house tomorrow, and warn him beforehand not to try anything. Matt put his hand on Brand's back and gave him a small push, and Brand moved back to the cell.

Before Doc arrived, Odin woke up and lay on the bed rubbing his throat. "Odin." Matt sat on the end of the bed. "Lie still and rest. Doc's coming."

"Does this mean I can't jailkeep anymore?" Odin said in a hoarse whisper.

"We'll talk about that later," said the marshal.

"It didn't bring on the melancholy," said Odin. "Brand grabbing me." He coughed.

"I'll get you some water," said Matt.

"It's strange, Marshal," said Odin, as Matt handed him the cup and helped him to sit. "I think what Brand did to me and you showing up just in time somehow lifted my spirits. Only thing scares me is losing this job. Because without it, I'll want to try and kill myself again."

"Don't worry, Odin." Matt patted his shoulder. "We'll work it out."

Doc came in with Chester. "Odin," said Doc. His fingers probed Odin's neck. "Hurt much?"

"Just a little sore, now, Doc."

Doc cupped Odin's thin face in his hands and moved Odin's head from side to side. "How about that," said Doc. "Does that hurt when I move your head?"

"Not much," said Odin.

"You'll be fine," said Doc. "He throttled you, cut off your air. That's why you passed out.

"Matt," said Doc, "I think it's time for another meeting."

"About me, Doc?" said Odin.

"About you."

Doc wanted to meet again with Matt and Chester, Kitty, Odin and Violet, so the marshal planned the gathering for his return from Hays after he escorted Brand there and witnessed his hanging, as Matt was sure the gunman would get the noose.

Brand asked the judge to hear his case instead of a jury. "I got no reason to sit through that spew with no jury," said Brand. "I'm gonna swing howsoever."

"I wish I could say some words of comfort to Brand, Marshal," said Odin, when the gunman received his death sentence and Matt locked him up before the trip to Hays. "I don't hold it against him, what he did to me. He was desperate."

"Don't go near him, Odin," Matt said sternly, "and don't say anything to him. He almost killed you. Brand knows he can send for the parson if he wants to." Odin hitched his shoulders and winced, and Matt felt a prick of shame. His voice hadn't sounded loud or harsh to his own ears.

Chester put his arm around Odin's shoulders. "Mr. Dillon, it won't do no harm for Odin to tend to Japheth whilst Brand's still in the other cell," said Chester. "Like set and chat with Japheth, toss a dice or two with him maybe. I'll keep a close eye out for Odin."

Awaiting a court date in jail for a jury trial, Japheth was a professional horse thief who didn't wear a gun or knife, and had never shot a man. He stole only from wealthy ranchers, rich city liveries and stage line owners, and was friendly and talkative.

"Alright," said Matt. "Odin, you know Chester has to lock you in while you set with Japheth. He talks to Brand sometimes; don't take part in that conversation."

"I won't, sir," said Odin.

Violet said their second meeting about Odin would take place in the Vaughans' room at Ma Smalley's. "We'll meet over afternoon tea," said Violet. "Coffee too, of course. Odin has to have his coffee. Ma will be happy to prepare the fixings for us."

The chill wet weather turned as Matt rode back to Dodge after witnessing the hanging of Norse Brand. The marshal didn't actually watch executions, unless the Hays sheriff was absent and Matt had no choice. Required to stay within the enclosure until Brand was dead, the marshal stood as far away as possible with his back to the gallows, but he still heard the forbidding sound of the platform dropping under Brand's boots.

The clouds cleared away and the sun shone warm in a blue sky on the return trip, dispelling the dark cloud that habitually descended on the marshal when he set out for Hays with a condemned man. By the time Matt left Buck at Grimmick's livery and walked to Ma Smalley's for the meeting over afternoon tea—which Matt, who rarely drank tea, thought of as afternoon coffee—he was feeling himself and looking forward to the gathering to help Odin, especially since he knew Kitty would be there.

Matt shaved and washed up in his room at Ma's, changed his union suit and pants and shirt, brushed the prairie dirt from his vest and boots and combed his hair, and went to knock on the Vaughans' room door.

" _Come in,"_ Violet called. Doc and Kittty were already there, and Chester had walked with Odin from the marshal's office. Ma had set out chicken sandwiches, white cake with frosting and lemony filling, and pots of tea and coffee with sugar cubes and a pot of cream on the round table.

Everyone greeted the marshal at once while Violet filled a plate for him and poured him coffee. He said hello to Violet first, then smiled wide at Kitty. "Hello, Kitty," said Matt.

"Matt." Kitty returned his smile, and Matt gazed into her eyes as Chester chatted at him.

"Odin," Doc fussed, "you're pecking at that sandwich like a sparrow. Matt, he hasn't gained a speck of weight since he started working for you."

"I've never been one for eating a lot, Doc," said Odin.

"He drinks a lot of coffee, Doc," said Chester. "The sugar and cream he dumps in saves him wastin' away."

"I suggested molasses, Doc," said Matt. "Odin stirs it in his coffee."

"Well, that'll keep him from starving," said Doc. "But it won't make him any stronger. Which is why I called this meeting."

"Doc, please don't say I can't work for Marshal Dillon anymore," Odin pleaded.

"I've no right to say that, Odin," said Doc. "Matt hired you, so the decision is his. I _will_ say you're not strong enough to work in a jail around bandits and murderers, since you have trouble eating, particular. You like giving companionship to folks down on their luck, why not ask the parson if he needs an assistant?"

"Violet and I believe the Bible, but we're not churchgoers, Doc," said Odin. "We're not much for praying and reading the Scriptures, for all we should do it more than we do. And I'm too flawed to be an assistant pastor."

"And I'm not good enough to be an assistant pastor's wife," said Violet.

"Matt," said Kitty, "what if you could find a job for Odin working for a lawman in a settled town. Somewhere not so rough as here. That is, if you wouldn't mind moving out of Dodge, Vi."

"Would I _mind,_ " said Violet. "Honey, I've been looking for a reason to quit this town."

"West," said Odin. "A town west of Dodge."

"Out California way, maybe?" said Chester.

"Yes," said Odin. "I'd like to work for a lawman in California, Marshal."

"Well, I don't know, Odin," said Matt. "California's a long way from Kansas. I'll see what I can do."

"I can keep working for you until you find me the new job, Marshal?" said Odin.

"Mr. Dillon, I'm watchin' close out for Odin since Brand got at 'im," said Chester. "I won't let no harm come to him again."

"You can't guarantee that, Chester," said Doc.

"Well gracious, Doc," said Chester, "there ain't hardly anythin' at all you can _guarantee_. But I know how to keep a sharp eye out, an' I'm doin' it."

"I know you are, Chester," said Matt. "For now, Odin, you can keep working for me. If there's another incident like what happened with Brand, you'll have to take a break from jailkeeping while I find you a job in a more peaceful town."

The warm spell incited a rash of holdups in Dodge City. When the bank president told Matt that a gold shipment was coming in on the noon train, he strapped on his gun belt and put on his hat.

"You want I should come with you, Mr. Dillon?" said Chester.

"No, Chester," said Matt. "Stay here so you can unlock the cell when Odin's through playin' cribbage with Japheth."

Figuring that word of the arriving gold shipment was out, Matt expected one bandit at the least to show up at the depot. When Odin returned from the post with the mail the day before, he handed Matt a telegram from Leavenworth.

The marshal had given Odin the job of going to the post on Doc's orders. Doc hoped the exercise would whet Odin's appetite for food. "Chester's bein' too protective," said Doc, when Matt told him that on Chester's advice, the marshal had assigned Odin solely to tending the well-behaved prisoners. "It won't hurt Odin to run errands," Doc said.

The Leavenworth telegram warned of a lone outlaw sighted near Dodge, a mean one named Dirk Hatch. "There's no reward on his head," Matt said to Chester, "but he's wanted. He killed a guard escaping the State Penitentiary."

Matt knew Odin was comfortable spending hours in the jail cell with Japheth. Unlocking the cell to let Odin out when he finished passing the time with the affable horse thief was Matt's excuse to keep Chester at the office while the marshal captured Hatch. Though Chester often trailed with Matt on the prairie, his partner would make too much of a target backing Matt with a shotgun at the crowded depot.

Matt arrived at the station an hour before the train was scheduled to pull in and looked around. The telegram described Hatch as a man of mid height and build with brown hair and eyes, _regionally clad_ with _no distinguishing features_ , meaning he looked like most men. Matt scoped the area near the tracks, not too concerned that Hatch wasn't the sort to stand out. The marshal knew an outlaw on sight when he saw one.

Matt's senses heightened of a sudden, and he felt uneasy and invigorated at the same time, which signaled that someone was watching him. He unobtrusively looked side to side, then turned around.

Staring at Matt, the man stood a few yards off. The marshal's badge flashed in the sunlight, and the man stiffened, blinking, his head jerking up.

Matt gazed over the man's head, strolled past him, stood facing away from the tracks and waited about three minutes. When Matt turned round again, the man had seated himself on a bench, his back to the marshal.

Matt furtively approached, stopped when a span the length of his long arm separated him from the man, reached out and snatched the man's gun from the holster and jumped back.

The man leaped up, turning. Matt raised the gun, aiming at his chest, and he went still. "Dirk Hatch?" said the marshal.

The man cut his eyes to the side. "You tell the truth or no, you're taking a ride to Lansing," said Matt. "The prison warden will identify you."

The man shrugged. "I'm Hatch," he said.

Hatch was quiet and predictably morose. Although contrary to the sheriff's description, Matt noticed no viciousness about Hatch, the marshal figured Hatch hid it inside, like a lot of the mean ones. Matt reminded Chester to fix a sharp eye on Hatch, and look out closely for Odin's safety.

"Odin's under my wing all the time, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I dunno how I kin watch 'im any closer, lessun I tote 'im round in the crook of ma arm."

"Chester, if it takes totin' Odin to keep him away from Hatch, do it," said Matt.

Matt had ordered Chester to take a six-gun with him if he needed to unlock an occupied jail cell when the marshal was out of the office, even if the prisoner comported himself well. The morning after capturing Hatch, Matt went to the cattle pens to investigate a report of rustling.

Odin sat at the desk, which was cluttered with expense logs, wanted posters, letters and telegrams and reports. With Matt's permission, Odin was organizing the paper into neat stacks.

Chester took a six-shooter from the desk drawer and the jail key from its peg, unlocked Japheth's cell and removed the breakfast tray. He locked the cell and set the tray on the table, then cautiously approached Hatch's cell. Hatch stood near the lock, holding the bars and staring at Chester.


	3. Chapter 3

"Move back from the bars," said Chester. Hatch stepped back. "All the ways to the wall," Chester said. Eyes fixed on Chester's face, Hatch obeyed. Pointing the gun at Hatch, Chester unlocked the cell and stepped inside, his eyes fixed on Hatch's face.

" _Behind you, Chester!"_ Japheth shouted from the other cell.

The instant Chester swiftly turned, raising the gun and clicking the hammer, Hatch lunged at him, kicking his gun hand. The gun fired as Chester dropped the jail key, the bullet whizzing into Japheth's cell inches from the horse thief's head, ricocheting off the cell wall and dropping to the floor between the cells.

Hatch grabbed the gun from Chester, jumped back and took aim. Chester stood holding his throbbing hand. Numb with shock, he felt no fear.

" _Don't shoot him!_ " Japheth hollered. _"You promised not to hurt them, Hatch!"_

"Shut up," said Hatch. "Where's that runt with the odd name," Hatch said to Chester. "Odin."

"Never mind him," said Japheth. "We had a deal, Hatch. You said you'd turn me loose if I distracted Chester so you could get the gun."

Hatch snorted. "I ain't turning you loose," he said. "I hate you."

"You don't know me," said Japheth.

"I hate chatty grinning fellas like you. I might kill you.

"Now where's the runt," Hatch said to Chester.

Odin appeared in the doorway and leveled a shotgun at Hatch. Thumbing the six-gun hammer, Hatch spun to face Odin, and Chester said, _"Shoot 'im, Odin,"_ just as Matt walked in.

Matt drew his gun as Odin pulled the trigger, and the bullet from the shotgun ripped into Hatch's chest and through his lung. Hatch stumbled, firing the gun in his hand, the bullet missing Matt and Odin. Hatch stayed on his feet and swayed, blood soaking his shirt.

" _Drop the gun, Hatch,"_ said Matt.

Hatch spat bloody spray into the air thick with pungent smoke, stretched out a shaking arm and pointed the gun at Odin, who shot Hatch in the chest again as Matt at the same time shot Hatch twice. Hatch fell, the gun bouncing from his hand, and didn't move anymore.

"Alright, Odin?" said Matt, holstering his gun.

"Yes, sir," said Odin.

"Chester?" said Matt.

"Alright, Mr. Dillon. Ma hand's swellin' where's he kicked me's all."

"Japheth?" said Matt.

"D-uhh . . . ." Japheth stood at the bars to his cell, staring up at Matt. The horse thief looked scared.

"He done it," said Chester, rubbing his hand and scowling at Japheth. "He's naught but a trickster, Mr. Dillon. I shoulda knowed better than to trust a horse thief. He most got me an' Odin killed. Hisself, too."

"What happened, Chester," said Matt, looking at Japheth.

"I didn't mean it, Marshal," said Japheth. "It got out of hand." Chester related the incident from the time he unlocked Hatch's cell until Matt's arrival.

"The judge will want to hear about this in deciding your prison sentence, Japheth," said Matt.

Japheth gulped. "I didn't mean to put Chester and Odin in danger, Marshal. Hatch come up with this fool scheme to bust jail, and I couldn't resist takin' the risk."

"My guess is that trick will add another good year to your time," said the marshal. "That's a lot of penance for one witless mistake."

Odin volunteered to send for the undertaker's wagon, and when the body was carried away, Chester scrubbed the cell floor clean of blood. He fixed a fresh pot of coffee and gave Japheth a cup, then poured cups for Matt, Odin and himself, sweetening Odin's cup with molasses and cream. Matt closed the door to the jail, and the three men sat at the table.

"Odin," said the marshal, "after Norse Brand almost choked you to death, this morning with Hatch was one close shave too many."

"Yes, sir," said Odin. "I won't go near Japheth's cell after this."

Matt looked sympathetically into Odin's earnest sorrow-tinged eyes. "I'm beholden to you," said the marshal. "You're a brave man. You probably saved Chester's life."

"I won't never forget, Odin," said Chester.

"You would've done the same for me, Chester," said Odin.

"But I can't let you keep working here, Odin," said Matt. "It's my job to protect you, and I won't let you get killed and leave Violet a widow."

A shadow appeared to settle over Odin's small sharp features. "I understand, Marshal," he said. "I thank you for hiring me on, long as you did."

One side of Odin's mouth curved up in a rueful grin. "My Violet will be surprised to find out I killed a man," he said. "She didn't think I had the gizzard to save my own life, let alone a friend's."

"I'm _obliged_ , though, Odin," said Chester. "I ain't got words to say _how_ I'm obliged."

"I know you are, Chester," said Odin.

"I wrote the councils in some California towns I figure are peaceful enough for you to work for their lawmen," said Matt. "I haven't seen much of California; it's just on what I heard. I expect a reply soon, Odin."

"Yes," Odin said faintly, rising from his chair. "Thanks, Marshal. Thank you."

"Where you goin', Odin," said Chester.

Odin gave Chester a guarded look. "I'll take a walk, now," said Odin. "By myself." He put on his hat and left.

"Mr. Dillon, you jest gonna let 'im leave like that?" said Chester.

"He's a grown man," said the marshal. "I respect his wishes."

"I do too, I guess," said Chester. "Ah'm turrible worried, though."

"Chester, I have this whole town to protect," Matt said defensively. "I'm doing what I can for Odin. I can't tail him everywhere, and neither can you. You have your job here, and we have a prisoner needs tending to."

"I _know. That,_ Mr. Dillon," said Chester, his face reddening. He stood up, a tremor passing through his lean frame. "I kin worry 'bout a body," he said quietly. "A friend, particular."

Matt knew Chester would grow loud and more agitated if not calmed. He was winding himself up. "Why don't you fix another pot of coffee and I'll set up the checkerboard," said Matt.

"Well . . . alright," said Chester.

Sharpened pencil in hand, Kitty was poring over a stack of inventory sheets as she stood at the end of the bar when Odin walked through the batwings, looking dazed. "Miss Kitty," said Sam.

"I see him, Sam," said Kitty. "Odin knows he shouldn't be here. Doc told him not to set foot inside a saloon."

"I thought he was working for the marshal," said Sam.

"He was, last I heard," said Kitty, as Odin approached the bar.

"Miss Kitty," said Odin, tipping his hat.

"What're you doin' here, Odin," Kitty scolded. "Vi will be awful distressed when she finds out."

"I can't help that," said Odin in a low flat tone. "I should not have married Violet. I'm unfit to be a husband to any woman."

"Why aren't you at the jail?" said Kitty.

"Marshal Dillon said I can't work for him anymore. There was a shooting at the jail this morning. He doesn't want harm to befall me," said Odin.

"Oh no," said Kitty. "Are Matt and Chester alright?"

"They're fine, Miss Kitty." Odin put his small hands on the bar, splaying his fingers. "May I have a whiskey, Sam?"

"Now, you know I can't serve you a drink," said Sam.

"Beer?" Odin pleaded. Sam shook his head.

"Odin," said Kitty, "if we give you a drink, you'll get drunk and you'll keep drinking."

"I want to, Miss Kitty," said Odin. "I shot the man two times and Marshal Dillon shot him two times. Dirk Hatch. The one who escaped prison. I had to kill him and so did the marshal. So Hatch wouldn't shoot Chester and me. I'd do it again if I had to. But I need a drink now." Odin spoke slowly, his usually clear eyes stunned and dim.

Kitty moved to stand beside him and pressed his arm. "It's almost lunchtime," she said. "Why don't you and me walk to Mrs. Brown's shop, see if Vi's ready to eat."

Odin's sad gray eyes looked into Kitty's, and he took off his hat. They were the same height, his face close to hers, and Kitty felt drawn to him, which surprised her. Though his face was sweet and his manner pleasing, until now she'd not thought of him as attractive. There was a soulful keenness about Odin that appealed to Kitty, and she wanted to help him, not just as Vi's husband but for himself.

"Thank you, Miss Kitty, but I must beg off today," said Odin. "You're very kind, but I'm not at all hungry."

"Then let's go talk to Doc," said Kitty.

"You don't understand," Odin said patiently. "Doc can't help me."

"Passing the time of day lifts your spirits, Odin," said Sam.

"Not with me," said Kitty. "I'm makin' him worse."

"A beautiful woman like yourself can't make a man poorly unless he already is before he meets her," said Odin. "There's none prettier than you in Dodge, Miss Kitty, excepting my Violet."

"Thank you, Odin," said Kitty.

"Maybe if he has a talk with the marshal," said Sam.

"Oh, Sam," said Kitty. "Matt's the one who sacked him."

"Marshal Dillon's not to blame, ma'am," said Odin. "He was protecting me. And he wrote some California towns to find me another job with a lawman. In a peaceable place."

"You wanna talk to Matt?" said Kitty.

"I'd rather drink."

"You can't, Odin," Kitty sighed, tamping her impatience. She started feeling irritated with herself for caring so much what happened to him. Had he remained merely Vi's husband to her, she would have let him wander away to another saloon, and told Matt about it when she had the time.

"I don't know why Matt just let you walk out of the office like this," said Kitty, not minding at the moment that she criticized the marshal in front of Odin. She rarely found fault with Matt to anyone outside of her close friends.

"He's not to blame," Odin repeated. "He doesn't want me at the marshal's office."

Kitty looked helplessly at Sam.

"He doesn't want you working for him there," Sam explained. "You're welcome to visit and talk to him, though. He won't turn anyone away wants to talk."

"There's just no sense in it, Sam," Odin despaired.

"No sense in what," said Sam.

"In anything," said Odin. Sam looked at Kitty, shrugged and moved to the other end of the bar where two cowboys waited.

"You're trying to help me, Miss Kitty," said Odin. "But I'm beyond all that now. I'm not riding the circuit again, not even with Marshal Dillon." Odin put on his hat and gave Kitty his wry, woeful smile.

"Where're you going?" said Kitty.

Odin took Kitty's hand resting on his arm and shook his head. "Please don't follow me, pretty lady," he said. "It won't be fitting for a woman to see." Odin moved to the rear door, opened it and stepped through the doorway, and closed the door behind him.

Sam finished drawing beer for the cowboys and moved along the bar to stand across from Kitty. "He'll go to some two-bit saloon where they'll let him drink himself to death so long as he has the money to pay for it," said Sam.

"He's come so far, Sam," said Kitty.

"Where are you headed, Miss Kitty."

"I'm going for Matt," said Kitty, hurrying to the batwings. "Matt has to find Odin, stop him before it's too late. We won't give up on him after all our hard work."

Gripped by a compulsive determination, Kitty picked up her skirts and ran down Front Street, not concerning herself with folks staring at her. She rushed into the marshal's office, where Matt and Chester stood talking. Matt held a slip of paper.

"Kitty," said Matt. "What is it."

"It's Odin," Kitty gasped. "He came to the Long Branch and asked for a drink."

"You didn't give it to him, did you?" said Matt.

"No. Sam thinks Odin's gonna find some back street saloon and try to drink himself to death again."

"Oh my goodness," said Chester. "We have to find Odin, Mr. Dillon."

"We'll find him," said Matt. "I think he'll change his mind when I tell him about this wire that just came in." Matt folded the paper and put it in his shirt pocket. "Sit down and catch your breath, Kitty."

Chester pulled out a chair from the table and carried a dipper of water to Kitty. "Thank you, Chester," she said. "Matt, I'll be waiting at the Long Branch after I rest here a bit."

Matt told Chester to start with the Lady Gay and look in every saloon for Odin, while the marshal went direct to the dilapidated saloon row on the back street. Matt headed for the shoddiest structure at the end of the row, figuring Odin chose a place where the barkeep would likely not question how much he drank. Two words, _beer_ and _whiskey_ , were sloppily painted on the splintery sign nailed to the front of the saloon.

The saloon was empty except for the barkeep and Odin, who sat motionless at a dusty table with a whiskey bottle and a full glass in front of him. His fingers wrapped around the glass, Odin stared into it as though mesmerized.

"Odin," said Matt.

Odin looked blankly at the marshal, then raised the glass in his direction and nodded slightly, as though toasting Matt.

" _No,"_ said Matt.

Odin's mouth tightened defiantly, a silvery glint appeared in his eyes, and he moved the glass to his lips. Matt reached the table in two long running strides and knocked the glass out of Odin's hand. The glass flew to the floor without breaking, the whiskey splashing on the scarred tabletop.

"Did you taste it?" said Matt. Odin opened his mouth to answer, cleared his throat and swallowed and shook his head, blinking hard as his eyes grew moist.

"I know, Odin." Matt gave his shoulder a pat. Matt said the words to comfort, as he didn't know. He did nothing to excess and had no desire to. He'd gotten drunk with friends a few times as a very young man and hated how it made him feel. Matt preferred beer to whiskey, only on occasion downed more than two mugs of beer at a stretch, and never felt melancholic with no sound reason. Never afflicted by Odin's infirmities, Matt felt hindered at every turn, like Odin was locked in a jail cell and Matt couldn't find the key.

"I have something to tell you," said Matt. "I think it'll make you a lot better."

"Nothing can make me better," said Odin, his voice quavering.

"I think this will. Let's get out of here," said Matt.

When Odin didn't move from his chair, Matt pulled the chair back, took hold of Odin's shoulders and stood him up.

"I didn't know he had the sickness, Marshal," the barkeep blurted as they moved toward the batwings. "He didn't drink none, just sat lookin' at it 'til you come in. You won't shut me down, will you? I own this place."

"I won't shut ya down," said Matt. "You might wanna shut the place down yourself before it caves in on your head."

Matt led Odin outside, and they walked in the prairie grass toward Front Street instead of through town. Odin blinked in the sunlight, sniffed and rubbed his eyes, which Matt pretended not to notice. "What do you have to tell me, Marshal," said Odin.

"I'll tell you and Violet together," said Matt. "I hope you don't mind if Chester and Doc and Kitty listen in. They helped out with this. I figure they haven't had lunch yet, worryin' about you. Chester would've told Doc and Kitty would tell Violet. I'll tell you all about it at Delmonico's."

"I don't mind them hearing whatever you say to me and Violet," said Odin. "They're my friends. I don't know why, though. Why they're my friends. I'm an awful trouble."

"Most of us are now and then, Odin," said the marshal.

The Delmonico's waiter pushed two tables together to accommodate Matt, Chester, Doc, Kitty, Odin and Violet. Matt waited until everyone was served before pulling the telegram from his pocket.

"You should try to eat more than that, Odin," said Doc, turning a disapproving eye on Odin's bowl of chicken soup with a buttered biscuit. "You dropped some pounds just since I saw you last."

"I have my coffee with cream and sugar, Doc," said Odin.

"You keep livin' on that, you'll shrink down to a skeleton," Doc scolded.

"Doc, let Matt tell us what the telegram says," said Kitty. "Violet's on the edge of her chair wantin' to know and so am I."

"Oh yes. Please, Marshal," said Violet. "I'm about to bust wondering what that paper says."

"Well, I want to know what it says as much as the rest of you," said Doc. "If my guess is right, it involves a journey. Which Odin won't have the strength to make if he's flat on his back from inanition. It means weak from not eating, Chester," Doc said, seeing Chester mouth the word.

"I'll eat more," said Odin. "I want to go there, wherever it is."

"So do I, Sprite," said Violet. "I love you all, especially you, Kitty honey, but I can't wait to get out of Dodge. I hope the place we're goin' is somewhere far from Kansas."

"It is," said Matt.

"I understand how you feel, Vi, believe me," said Kitty. "I don't know why I haven't left this town."

"On account of Mr. Dillon, Miss Kitty. Why you don't leave," said Chester. "I know a'ready what all's in that wire," Chester smugly continued, dipping a big spoon of rabbit stew. "Done fetched it maself."

" _Chester,"_ said Kitty. "Matt. Stop making us wait."

"Yes, ma'am," said Matt. "The wire's from the sheriff of Napa City, in the north of California."

" _Oh!"_ Violet clasped her hands, beaming.

"Nice country round there—" said Matt.

" _Nice,"_ said Violet. "The valley there is _beautiful_."

"Let Marshal Dillon finish, my dear," said Odin.

"The sheriff sent me a letter a few days ago," said Matt, "but I didn't want to raise you folks' hopes unless I knew it was a sure thing." Matt waved the slip of paper. "The county's putting you on payroll as jailkeeper, Odin. All you'll be doing is tending to the prisoners. The sheriff's office has a young fella, does all the choring and errands." Matt returned the first wide smile he'd ever seen on Odin's elfin face.

"It's a lively town," Matt went on. "A lot goes on there, but the sheriff and deputy keep order. They don't see many gunmen; it's settled and peaceful compared to Dodge. Odin will be safer working there than here, Violet."

"Oh Marshal, it's _perfect_ ," said Violet. "I'll find a seamstress job there straightaway, I'm sure."

"There's lakes aplenty fer fishin', Odin, an' a river," said Chester. "I never bin, but I read 'bout the California north country. I seen pictures. Oh heavens, I wisht I was goin'," he said wistfully.

"You will some day if you really want to, Chester," said Kitty.

"Well . . . maybe I will at that, Miss Kitty," said Chester.

"They're known for wineries out that way," said Doc. "Might make it hard on Odin."

"I won't take a drop, Doc," said Odin. "A body doesn't have to drink if he sets his head against it."

"That's so," said Doc.

Odin and Violet would ride the stage lines on a three-day trip to Omaha, then take the Pacific Railroad seven days to San Francisco, and a final stage ride to Napa City. Matt, Chester, Doc and Kitty came to see them off early on a warm sunny morning.

"Write me, Kitty honey?" said Violet, embracing Kitty. Vi was one of the few women Kitty knew who hugged tightly and pressed cheeks rather than barely touching cheeks at arm's length. Vi had stopped wearing paint and powder when she married Odin and left her job as saloon gal at the Long Branch, and she now arranged her abundant gold hair in a simple neat twist with waves framing her face, so smearing cosmetics and mussing elaborate curls no longer concerned her.

Vi's days were now filled with thoughts of Odin and caring for him. Violet Darling had become Violet Vaughan, Mrs. Odin Vaughan, with a man who despite his many frailties was in sole truth before the world her own, and in this, gazing into the pretty face which rivaled hers for beauty, Kitty envied her.

Vi pulled out of the hug and her brows puckered, her hands in their light traveling gloves holding Kitty's in her walking gloves. "What's the matter, honey," said Vi. "I know you aren't missin' me that much."

"You're lucky, Vi," said Kitty.

"Yes," said Vi. "I been blessed with Sprite and I don't know why. I'm sure not deserving. You are, though, Kitty honey. Think on that for me, will you? I'd love for you to find happiness."

Kitty made herself smile brightly. There was no time to explain how she felt at once happy and restive with Matt, certainly not with Matt, Chester, Doc and Odin watching and listening. "We'll write, Vi," said Kitty. "Sometimes you need to share things with a friend, even when she's far away."

Violet took Matt's hand between both of hers. "Thank you for Sprite and me, Marshal," she said. "I can't imagine you ever needing anything from us, but we'll always be beholden."

"Violet," said Matt. "Take care of yourself."

"You best start eatin' hearty, Odin," said Doc. "That sheriff in Napa's like to change his mind about hiring you if you show up to their jailhouse weak and skinny."

"I'll try, Doc," said Odin.

Matt and Odin shook hands while Chester stood by quietly, a distant look in his brown eyes. Odin held out his hand to Chester and they shook. "You should go West, too, Chester," said Odin. "Get a fresh start."

"I will right along . . . maybe, Odin," Chester said easily.

Odin helped Violet into the coach and climbed in beside her. Kitty took Matt's arm and they smiled at each other, and Doc looked away from the departing stage in the direction of Delmonico's. "Well . . ." said Doc. "Let's get breakfast."

Matt and Kitty and Doc headed for the restaurant, none of them noticing that Chester lingered behind. Hands in his pockets, he ambled a little in the wake of the stage, then turned and trailed after his friends.


End file.
